Fox and Phoenix (Lóng City 1)

Yún stopped chewing her lips. “You’re right.” She pointed to the next kingdom over, northwest of our own shelter. “Here. At least for starters.”

GOLDEN SNOWCLOUD, said the legend. According to the symbols, it had a piaohao and magic flux wells. “Looks small. And will it have a doctor?”

“It’s tiny,” Yún said. “But it has some of the deepest magic flux wells in the whole Seventy Kingdoms. They won’t have any droughts. With all that magic, they have to have doctors as well. We can fix up Yao-guài, buy a few more supplies, and plan the rest of our route.”

Her voice was stronger. Her manner was matter-of-fact.

Nothing like yesterday evening.

(Or yesterday afternoon, when you kissed her.)

I chewed that thought into small bits and spat them aside. We didn’t have time for me to play lovesick kid. We had to reach Golden Snowcloud before Yao-guài died. Again.

We broke camp and doubled back to the fork in the roads. Our map said Golden Snowcloud was a three-plus-day march. We covered the distance in half the time. Up the goat-trail, over the hump-backed mountain, and along a gorge so deep, shadows covered its depths. By late afternoon of that second day, we reached the border stones of the next kingdom.

Here the road stopped at a cliff. Again we consulted the maps, and we didn’t like what they told us. Golden Snowcloud lay at the bottom of an even deeper gorge, surrounded by walls of mountains. There were two ways to enter the kingdom—by wind-and-magic lift and goat path. The wind-and-magic lift—a big sturdy platform with ropes and winches that looked like they could haul a gargoyle—was closed. When I pounded my fist against the shuttered gates to the lift, a pre-recorded voice whined that the lifts had stopped running because of imminent storms.

Leaving us that impossible goat track.

Our pony, the poor creature, bleated just one protest at the top of our descent. We had to slither and slide our way down, gripping the handrails that some later kind soul had installed. (Most likely after all his near relatives had died trying to enter this thrice-damned city.)

The path dropped us and our trembling pony between two iron posts that marked the city’s outer walls and the entrance to a wide market square surrounded by tall stone buildings. Twilight was falling, and the guards herded us through a carved gateway that led directly into the mountainside. “There’s a monster blizzard coming,” said one, in answer to our questions. “Hail and sleet and ice, the wizards say.”

Inside the mountain, a vast cavern held another city, complete with its own market square, this one crowded with goats and sheep being herded into their winter pens. Shafts and vents cut into the mountainside let fresh air inside and carried the wood smoke away. Mirrors reflected the dimming sunlight. Even as I watched, a series of lamps flickered on, like stars against a stony sky.

That’s when I noticed a difference in the air—a scent that tickled my nose and sent a rippling excitement over my skin. Magic. It was like drinking water after a long drought.

Yún plucked at my sleeve. “Over here.”

She elbowed her way between the goats and sheep and shepherds to the vendor stalls that lined the market square. One, tended by an old woman smoking a pipe, had a strange stone chimney beside it.

“How much?” Yún asked.

The old woman puffed out a mouthful of smoke and named a price.

It was so high I squeaked, but Yún didn’t even hesitate. “Kai, let me have Yao-guài, please.”

I drew the limp griffin from its pouch.

The griffin huffed. Its eyes were dull. Its feathers had turned a tarnished yellow. Several floated to the ground as I handed it over to Yún. The old woman watched us with narrowed eyes, especially the griffin. “Better hurry,” she wheezed. “It’ll die more easily the second time.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

The woman shrugged. “How could I not know? Magic is my business. Take this for the flux,” she said to Yún, handing over a tall stone beaker. “Your tin cups won’t do.”

Yún accepted the beaker and counted out the sum into the old woman’s palm. Following the woman’s directions, she held the beaker underneath a spout beside the well. The old woman tossed the coins into her moneybox. With her pipe still between her teeth, she leaned close to the chimney, muttering a series of words I recognized from our long-ago lessons. A mathematical sequence. A magical one.

Magic flux streamed into the beaker, filling it to the brim. Yún carefully brought the beaker around to the griffin’s half-open beak. “Yao-guài,” she whispered. “Drink.”

Magic flowed from the beaker over the griffin’s beak, like a stream of concentrated mist. Yao-guài panted, snapped at the silvery cloud, then opened its beak wide, drinking in the mist until the beaker ran dry.

Yún handed the empty beaker back to the woman. She cupped her hand over the griffin’s head in a caress. With a weak squawk, it fastened its beak onto Yún’s finger. Yún winced and smiled. I could see her joy in her face, and my heart danced around. Our griffin would live. And Yún had smiled.

THE WIZARDS WERE right—the storm roared over the mountains at nightfall. Safe inside the cavern, I saw nothing but I heard everything. Ai-ya, did I hear it. Those heavy iron doors shuddered with every blast of wind, and their massive hinges groaned and creaked, while from outside came a horrible grinding noise, as though a giant gnashed its teeth. The magic flux lamps burned steadily, but ordinary candles and lamps flickered. We spent most of our funds for supper and a double-sized stall in the cavern’s stables.

The pony gave a great rattling sigh as soon as I unloaded our packs. One of the old market women sold me hot water and mash, which I gave to the long-suffering beast to munch on while Yún rubbed him down. I went off to fetch a bucket of water from the common well so we could drink and wash and make tea. Like everything else, the water tasted and smelled of magic.

But when I got back, I found Yún sitting on the ground. The pony stood over her, nuzzling her hair. As I hurried forward, it jerked up its head and gave a scolding whuff.